


Buria

by CB Winchester (Fireheart8)



Category: Gothic Romance - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireheart8/pseuds/CB%20Winchester
Summary: Liana Grigori is dead. Well, undead really. It is the eve of the day Liana had died, six hundred years ago and the night comes with a heavy toll. She remembers the night in crystal clear detail, and when someone she hasn’t seen in almost a century shows up on her door step, she finally has an outlet for the tense and heartbreaking memory that has been plaguing her for over half a millennium. Unexpected guest and old friend; Dmitri, has come to convince her to return to the coven and take up her rightful place as Elder after the shock death of her predecessor and maker; Vika.The two reminisce about one specific memory they both hold very dear; the first night they met at a masquerade almost two hundred years prior. During this stroll down memory lane, Liana realises the spark between her and Dmitri is still there. But is she willing to give up her self-imposed human-esque living arrangement for the  affluent social life of the coven?The battle between the comfort and freedom of her secluded living, and the longing for the connection and structure of the coven, comes to a head and Liana makes a decision which will change her immortal life dramatically for the unforeseeable future.





	Buria

It was dark, the weather outside a maelstrom of rain, flashes of lightning, and echoing thunder. Be that as it may, Liana did not have any other form of light apart from the dim glow of the crackling fire in the fireplace. The book that resided in her hands was nowhere near as old as she was, though it was older by almost a century than most. Its pages were yellowed, the linen molecules having been exposed to oxygen for over a century and a half. And though the writing itself was also faded; Liana’s eyes had no quarrels reading the delicate handwritten script. She often spent late, storm-laden nights reading one or more of the thousands of books which called the small manor’s library home. There was a low static, a rumble almost, in the air, too low for human ears to hear, and almost too obvious for inhuman ears blessed with heightened hearing to block out.

Liana drew her eyes away from the old book, glancing up at the window in time to catch a flash of lightning illuminate the sky. This storm, there hasn’t been one this bad since...the night I left, she thought, pushing away the memory away. She closed the book with a delicateness that mimicked a pianist’s hands against ivory keys, and placed it on the mahogany table in front of her, almost floating to her feet. She sauntered the short distance to the white gossamer draped French doors, the curtains billowing in the light breeze, the doors open slightly ajar. There was something about the way the electricity played in the air during a storm, a buzzing almost, that she could feel under the surface of her skin. The night felt uneasy, the tingling under her skin unnerving her, and though it was storming outside and likely close freezing, the temperature did not affect her in any way.

With the storm raging outside, her eyes were drawn to the roiling clouds, her attention was divided between nature’s revelry and every other small thing around her. Buria, she though; it was a Russian word, Storm. It was almost as if she could hear his voice. She was snapped away from the thought by the sound of tires on gravel slowing, the creaking of the mountainous wrought iron gate that lead onto the driveway. Turning away from the French doors and rippling curtains, her dark hair whipped around her in the sharp breeze that snuck in through the cracked doors, she tilted her head to the side, curious.

Her footsteps were almost silent against the dark floors, the faint clicking of block heels against the wood. The crunch of gravel beneath boots outside stopped as she reached the front door of the house, just in time for her guest to raise his hand, clench it into a fist, and knock against it. She opened the door, her hand sliding over the golden handle as she stopped it from opening too far, she didn’t want to let the rain in. She was met by a tall figure with wild brown hair, and eyes that matched almost perfectly. Something’s wrong, he wouldn’t be here elsewise, she thought, Or maybe, just maybe, he misses me?

“Lady Grigori.” The man said and she raised her eyebrows, _Really?_

He shifted his weight slightly and spoke again, somewhat less authoritative, “Liana.”

She’d known this man since the late 18th century, having met him in New Orleans prior to the First Great Fire that had practically destroyed the city. He had been young and so excitable over the prospect of travel, that he’d left Russia and found himself in the Americas. They’d bonded over being northern European natives, Liana herself from Romania.

His dark hair was shorter than it had been back then, curling around his face. She knew she should have hugged him, or shaken his hand at least, but something in her was frozen. She couldn’t bring herself to move. Dmitri had always been the more affectionate one, even if he wasn’t showing it right then.

“Dmitri” she stated, a hint of shock in her voice, “It’s been-”

“Almost a century, yes.” He replied, his Russian accent as strong as ever, “May I come in?” 

Liana hesitated a moment, her arm still stretched across the doorway, hand still resting on the mahogany door frame. He was as tall as she remembered, a good six foot five, someone you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley, more so if you knew of his true being. Her mouth was slightly ajar, sharp, pearl-white fang-like canines glistening behind deep red lips. There was a sensation like wasps in her chest, looking at him now, every choice she’d made seemed distant and cold. Where are you going? She remembered he’d asked that bygone night, she could still hear his voice as clear as a bell.

“Liana?” he questioned, watching the stillness of her face

“Yes...yes, of course.” She replied, finally dropping her arm.

She wondered what had drawn Dmitri here after all the years, had he too left the Coven? Was he nostalgic for the old days and longing to reminisce with an old friend? No, Liana thought, Dmitri was a Regent for the Coven, or so she’d heard, he'd never leave. No, unless it was important. She stretched her arm toward the entry hall, welcoming him into the house. She found it strange to see him wearing such modern clothes, she was so used to the waistcoats and dress shirts, but now he wore jeans and a sweater under a coat.

“What brings you here? Why after all this time?” She asked, following after him

“I missed you too.” He replied, almost teasing, glancing over his shoulder at her.

A smile fought somewhere deep down inside her, trying to break to the surface, but to no avail. His eyes took in the main hallway, looking around at the decor and her belongings scattered decoratively around. She didn’t reply right away, watching curiously before her lips twisted into a slight grimace. How can he bear to be around me, with the way we left things? The thought swam in her mind, I was so cruel.

“Dmitri, why are you here?” She questioned, catching up with him without any struggle.

He turned to her then, looking her dead in the eye, where her’s were an ocean blue, his were a warm brown with flecks of gold. His face was stern, as if he were about to deliver her a death warrant.

“There’s been a power shift in the Coven.” He told her

“Oh?” she questioned; her tone almost monotonous even though she was deathly curious.

“Vika has met an untimely demise.”

“She’s an Elder...”

“Was.” He said, “A delegation was heading to the London Coven, Vika amongst them.”

“And? What happened?” she questioned, shock saturating her voice

Dmitri fought the urge to roll his eyes, Liana had a habit of interrupting him, but he continued anyway, “A run in with some hunters.”

“Hunters? Against an Elder and her delegation?”

“The current hunting clan is quite dangerous.”

“They can be dealt with.” Liana said, “It can’t be as bad as 1865.”

She led him towards the sitting room, where the fire still burnt and the curtains still billowed like the sails of a frigate ship in the wind. Liana motioned for Dmitri to take a seat on one of the velvet upholstered lounges or chairs, they were old when it came to furniture, many would call them vintage or even antique. Dmitri sat in the old brown leather armchair by the fire, the leather was cracked and worn with age, but the chair itself still held up well. Liana could not bring herself to get rid of it.

“Who is next in line for the Elder seat?” Liana questioned as she balanced on the edge of the chaise lounge, sitting delicately on the green-velvet clad armrest.

A smirk came to his lips, and she sighed, her head tilting back slightly as she realised that she was in fact next in line. After all she had been Vika’s only progeny, it made perfect sense for her to be next in line for the Elder seat. He’s my progeny, if I don’t want it, he could take the seat...she thought.  
She smiled, courteously, and spoke knowingly, “And they sent you to retrieve me because they know I have a soft spot for you.”

“Well, you are my maker,” he said, “So I’d hope so.”

She had missed him dearly, he’d been one of the only people ever to get so close to her. At first, she’d tied that to being his maker, but as the years rolled by, Dmitri had become an important in her life. Family. Then why did you leave him? When did he become a stranger? She realised that he hadn’t in fact, that she’d been pushing it all out of mind. She pushed the thoughts away, returning to the matter at hand.

“I thought with my leaving, that I’d be disinherited?” she questioned

“No, you come from one of the first. Bloodlines are important.”

“Well, you come from my bloodline. Which means you can take the seat if I abdicate it to you.”

“Liana...You don’t really want to live alone forever, do you? Don’t you want to come back? Don’t you miss us? Miss me?”

“Of course, I miss you Dimka.” She said, cringing internally at her slipup

 _Dimka? Really? You had to let that slip?_ She thought, Just like old times. Dmitri smiled at the nickname, he hadn’t heard it in almost ninty years, and she had been the only one to ever use it for him.

She spoke, trying to push away the nostalgic feeling building in her, “If I return to claim the seat, they’ll frown down upon me for abandoning my role and progeny. If I don’t, they’ll still judge, but at least I won’t have to hear it.”

“You didn’t abandon me.” He stated warmly, smiling and leaning towards her, resting his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands together, “One does not have to keep their progeny around for all of eternity.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have abandoned you, I shouldn’t have said what I said that night.” She told him, “I’m surprised you’re here, considering.”

“Oh Liana, I forgave you the moment you stepped out the front gates.”

“You shouldn’t have, I was cruel.”

“No, you were lost, there’s a difference.” He said

The storm outside was yet to lighten and Liana suspected it would rage on all night, not that it bothered her in anyway, but she’d hoped it would settle, even for a few hours so that she could wander through the woods the house backed onto, maybe look for something to quench her building thirst. But his voice dissuaded the urge, cutting clear through her thoughts. Her eyes flitted towards his, capturing a brief moment of unbridled curiosity. She wondered if she’d changed much since she’d left, if he saw her differently now.

“We really should talk about you returning to the coven, Ana.”

She realised they were falling into old habits; nicknames, easy conversation even if it was a heavy topic. She nodded and in the blink of an eye, she had settled on the chaise rather than remaining on the armrest. Her movements had been quick but in no way less graceful than she had been earlier when she had just been walking, if anything she was more graceful being so quick.

Dmitri didn’t seem uncomfortable at all, he just watched her, a slight smile on his lips. He’d always looked at her that way, no matter what she did. It made her chest tighten, realising how much she had actually missed him. She wanted to know everything that he had been through since she had left. She seemed softer now, less stressed. She’d enjoyed her solitude but was actually thankful for Dmitri turning up.

She hadn’t realised how much of a recluse she’d become, though she’d occasionally wander into town to learn things from an old friend. She’d heard a little here and there about what was happening at the Coven, and even though she tried to keep to herself, she had a propensity to keep tabs on Dmitri. She’d only heard a bit, but she wanted to hear it from the source.

“First, tell me, what Hell have you been raising for the past eighty six?” she asked

“No Hell, just work.” he said, laughing gently for a brief moment.

“Being a Regent is always busy work.”

“How did you know?”

“I have my sources. Not all of us are part of Covens. Or vampires for that matter.”

Dmitri smiled, amused. Spotting an old photo on the fireplace mantle, he got up in a blur to look at it, leaning against the mantle. It wasn’t an old photo, relatively recent, and clearly taken in the French Quarter. He turned his attention towards her.

“I’ve been to New Orleans again.” Dmitri told

“You didn’t help burn it down again, did you?” she questioned, a small smile playing at her lips.

“I didn’t help burn it down the first time.” He replied, feigning offence, “I just got caught up in it.”

She pushed her long hair over her shoulder, it cascaded down past her waist, like dark ocean waves. She’d never once been tempted to cut it, even with the changing of trends. She was too removed from the human world to care.

The dim glow cast shadows on Dmitri’s face, making his cheekbones more prominent and his eyes even darker, making him look more like a predator than a man. The silver chain around her neck glinted in the light of the fireplace, she’d worn it as long as he’d known her, and she touched it gently.

“Has the Coven changed much since I left?” Liana questioned

“Same stagnant rules, but we’ve moved with the times.” He answered, clasping his hands together, “We’ve adapted as we always have.”

“One thing I do miss about the Coven is the masquerades, they’re still occurring?”

“Oh yes, but they’re no fun without you.”

Liana fought the urge to roll her eyes, averting her eyes to the dancing flames to distract herself. The sparks and embers danced in the fireplace, reminding her of the swirl of dancers at one of the many masquerades she’d attended prior to her departure from the Coven.

“Do you remember the night we met?” she asked

“How could I forget?” he answered, nostalgia tinging his voice.

Liana remembered the night in stark detail, the ballroom on the banks of the Mississippi, the poor humans who had found themselves unwittingly amongst the undead. Many had been unknowingly lucky to escape with their lives, whilst others hadn’t been as lucky. The young Russian man, no older than twenty-four, had caught Liana’s eye, but it wasn’t a bloodlust, it was an adoration.

“You saved my life that night. Without you I would have died.” Dmitri said

She frowned, remembering the moment she had found him bleeding out in the alley. He’d been dancing one moment, gone the next, a victim of a rogue cashing in on the gathering of humans and undead alike. He would have died if she hadn’t made him into vampire like her.

“You brought me into the Coven, you gave me a family that I didn’t have.” He said, “We are a family, you should come back to us.”

“You said the Coven is stagnant, the rules at least.” Liana replied, “It was one of the reasons I left, there was no progress.”

“Liana, you can make that progress. If you become our Elder, you can change things.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference, the Covens run on a system, if one changes, they all have to, and the others are quite set in their ways. The Council would never allow that anyway.”

“Convince them to change, to see what you could do for us.”

“You think I’m some sort of God?”

“No.” He huffed a laugh, “But you’re different, you’re old.”

“Oh, thanks.” She replied, feigning insult

“You know what I mean.” He retorted, waving a hand at her, “You’re old, but not like them. Your mindset is ever changing, you move with the times. The other Elders don’t.”

“I understand what you’re going for, but-”

“You have a way with persuasion.” He said, “You can be the spark that ignites change.”

“I’m not built to be an Elder, Dimka.” She said, “I like my peace, my anonymity.”

“You’ve never been anonymous, Ana. You’ve just never noticed how everyone sees you.” He replied, “I would follow you into war, which I have. I’d follow you into Hell. And not just I alone, there are others too.”

Looking at him now, she knew she would do anything as long as he was with her, she didn’t know how she’d stayed away so long. How she hadn’t spent the past century apologizing for how cruel she’d been, for the words she’d used, and how she’d left him behind. She hadn’t realised the storm had drifted off to the horizon, leaving just the petrichor and sodden landscape, until the scent of wet earth settled in her nose. The peaceful and purified mood settled over her too.

“Dmitri, I’m sorry...”

His brow furrowed slightly, knowing she didn’t mean about the current situation, but he was unsure exactly what she was apologizing for. He moved from his place by the fire and sat beside her on the chaise, watching her with a wistfulness in his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry about how I left, everything I said...” she continued

“Ana, I forgave you the moment you turned your back and left.”

“You shouldn’t have. You’re too forgiving of me.”

“No, I am exactly the right amount of forgiving.” He said, “None of it matters anymore. But if you want to make it up to me, come back.”

“Dmitri...I...” she replied

She felt a steady breeze through the cracked doors and took an uneasy breath, one that she didn’t physiologically need. The choice roiled in her, restless, twisting, coiling like the storm that had raged earlier. She had made her choice when Dmitri had walked in, even if she hadn’t known it them. She reached out, entwining her fingers with his, their clasped hands resting on his thigh.

“Okay.” She replied, her voice low and smooth, “You’re right, I have been avoiding it. It is time I return to the Coven... and to you.”

Dmitri cracked a lopsided smile and squeezed her hand, “I promise you won’t regret it, I'll be there beside you, whenever you need.”

“Dimka, that’s all I really need.”


End file.
